


A Name of My Own

by MamaZoom



Series: Raise Hell [2]
Category: Blue Song - Mint Royale (Music Video), Mint Royale
Genre: Family Planning, M/M, seriously mostly family shit, this is mainly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom
Summary: (I was meant to be getting ready for a Rocky Horror meatloaf dinner, but I wrote this instead--oops!)There is something inside of him.Something hard and vast that sits between his clavicle and throat like a stinky belch.***A little fic set this year (2019), from Gabe's point of view.





	A Name of My Own

There is something inside of him. 

Something hard and vast that sits between his clavicle and throat like a stinky belch. 

The worst part, he muses to himself, is that it moves. The feeling was prone to travel. It didn’t always rest there. Sometimes it takes space in his chest, growing gnarled roots that would wrap around his heart and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. 

Mostly it sits in the pit of his stomach, making him feel as hollowed out as Eli’s guitar. 

Gabe sighs, shifting against the bedsheets. Eli stirs next to him, throwing an arm over his waist, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Gabe knows enough to be aware that he’s not actually awake--despite the slurred “good morning” pressed against his skin. The words being a tad too shapeless, that’s what’s given him away. 

Eli is too warm against him, his morning breath wafting over the shelf of Gabe’s chin to assault his nose. 

And Gabe is overcome under a tidal wave of affection for his husband. The beast inside him is, for the moment, pulled into the undertow of affection flooding through him, gurgling a cry through a mouthful of warm, salty water. 

  
  


Vicki—his therapist of three years—always tells him to do this thing. This exercise. 

Not being good with words—really, he’s not, that’s more Eli’s bag—means he sometimes (always) has trouble lending names to his emotions. The problem with that is, he’s so very good at feeling. 

So when he tells Vicki nowadays that he’s having a feeling, she knows to tell him to pay attention to his body. Where does this feeling live? Where does it come from? 

Through Vicki, he’s learned where his emotions live. 

Desire resides in his throat. Hunger, obviously, lives in the stomach. That is desire’s cousin, hunger. But needier. Like if you don’t get what you want, you might die. 

Love and jealousy live in the chest. They’re siblings. Share the same mother--different fathers, different upbringings. 

Desire. Hunger. Jealousy. Love. All swirling within him and he wonders why. 

Why now? What’s the reason?

He’s settled. He’s happier than he ever thought he could be, being married. 

So what more, he asks himself, could be possibly want?

  
  


“We’re home!” Eli’s voice rings through the flat, calling happily out to him. 

“Gabe!” Ben’s voice joins the tail end of his father’s, not bothering to wait until Eli was done talking, “Can I use your paints? I have an idea for a picture!” 

Gabe walks out of the kitchen with a cup of tea. He wandered in there for a beer, realized he was too aimless and agitated to be drinking (thank you, Vicki), and put the kettle on instead. 

His heart had clenched at the sound of them coming through the door, but watching them now as Eli helps Ben out of his coat, he thinks his circulatory system might shut down entirely. Everything in him seizes for a terrifying moment that seems to stretch on forever until thankfully time lurches back into motion and his body starts working again and he takes a breath and finally speaks. 

“Ask your dad,” he chimes happily, taking a sip of tea as Eli sidles over to him easily, planting a sweet kiss of greeting on his cheek. 

“After dinner,” Eli calls over his shoulder and is answered by an “Aw, dad!” all drawn out and whining until Eli shoots him a stern look and Ben walks off towards his bedroom—the one that was once used only for guests. 

The tree roots return, squeezing inside of Gabe’s chest and he has to lean over the worktop to keep from falling over, passing it off as a casual move, sliding his cup to Eli to finish before the tea can get cold, asking how his day was because he needs a distraction. 

Because now he knows. 

  
  


He knows what’s been plaguing him and he sits with it, locked away with the realization in some spare room in his psyche, the two of them having a staring contest. 

He’ll talk to Eli about it eventually. 

He’s just gotta figure a few things out first. 

  
  


It’s another day—the weekend--and he and Eli sit cuddled on the sofa, talking in low voices, not wanting to wake Ben, who’s curled up dozing under a blanket on Gabe’s favorite chair. His bedtime is in thirty minutes, and they’ll carry him to his room and tuck him in then. 

Gabe hums contentedly as Eli twirls a strand of his hair around one of his long fingers. Later tonight, he’ll request another use for those digits. But for now he leans his head into the touch. 

“Eli,” he asks quietly, “what made you wanna have kids?” 

“I don’t know, really.” Eli yawns, and Gabe thinks that might not bode well for his finger plans later, “I always thought I’d like being a father. Thankfully I was right.”

“Hmm,” Gabe hums noncommittally, snuggling deeper into Eli’s side. “You ever regret not havin’ more?”

He shrugs minutely, attempted not to dislodge Gabe’s head from his shoulder. “I don’t know. One is great. I like more in theory.” 

There is a wistfulness to Eli’s voice that lets him know if Gabe asked, he’d be down for a houseful of children. He grins lopsidedly and echoes, “Yeah. In theory.”

  
  


They had discussed it briefly, years before. 

“Did you ever think about it?” Eli had asked, nodding down at Ben sleeping in Gabe’s arms. 

He had wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, yeah? He’s lovely. But nah, I never really considered it.”

Eli has nodded affably, kissing the top of Gabe’s head. A small disappointment. 

It had been true though. 

He had never considered it. And now that the man we was gonna marry had a child with someone else, he didn’t have to consider it. 

  
  


He was considering it now. 

  
  


“Am I...selfish?” He asks, picking at his salad with his fork. 

“No shit.” Kat chuckles, stuffing a chip into her mouth. 

Gabe pushes his plate away from him. He isn’t hungry. Will probably never be hungry again. His stomach too full of tangled up feelings to hold anything else. 

“I’m kidding!” She laughs jovially, reaching over the table to squeeze his hand in a gesture of intimacy that should be impossible for them, all things considered. 

“I want a baby.” Gabe says for the first time ever out loud. He is surprised by how natural it sounds. 

Kat’s face drops momentarily, “Not..from me, right?”

“No!”, Gabe supplies quickly, attempting to appease her, “I mean, not necessarily.”

He hadn’t considered that as an option, but thinking of the possibility of having a baby that could basically be half his genes, half Eli’s…

“I’m not letting you fuck a baby into me.” Kat says definitively, plucking a crouton from his plate. 

“I’m not gonna fuck a baby into you!” Gabe all but squawks. 

“No shit. I won’t let you.” Her eyes sparkle in the same way Eli’s do when he’s taking the mick. 

Something in his stomach reawakens with a roar. 

  
  
  


“Am I…” Gabe trails off, trying to find the right words, turning his head to gaze at the sea. They decided to drive out to Brighton today. Caught in the grip of nostalgia, as they so often are this time of year. 

The air is crisp and blustery, and when Eli buries his nose in Gabe’s neck, he assumes it’s for the warmth—until he feels him plant a cheeky, sucking kiss on him. 

He bats Eli away playfully, and for a moment, he’s 26 again—cackling joyfully on their first anniversary at the blissful surprise of Eli sneaking up behind him to boldly grind his erection to his lower back. 

That wave of affection washes through him again and he floats on it for a moment , allowing it to buoy him off as the gulls scream overhead. 

“Are you what?” Eli asks, laying back on the cold shore. 

Gabe’s back on earth suddenly, the monster lodged firmly in his throat and the words all jumbled up again. The inside of his head must look like a dictionary put through a blender, he thinks. 

He takes a steadying breath and decides to just spit out whatever words reach his mouth first—a risky gambit. 

“Am I a good stepmum or whatever?” He sticks his hand into the pocket on the front of Eli’s hoodie, fishing out his cigarette packet just to give himself something to do with his hands. 

“You’re amazing, Gabe,” Eli assures in that soft, earnest way of his, and it’s a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “You’re so...patient and understanding. And loving! Which is...above and beyond. You love Ben like he’s your own.”

The roots in his chest grow, one of them piercing through some vital part of him and he winces, thankful that his back is to Eli, that he can’t see his face or his chest bleeding out on the sand in the pale autumn sun. 

“Yeah, but like…” he takes a pull off the cigarette, blows a ribbon of smoke out into the air before the wind unfurls it and carries it off. “Does he like me?” 

“He loves you! He always asks if you’re gonna be home when I pick him up from school. You should see his little face light up when I tell him you’re working on a new art project.”

Gabe jams the cigarette butt back into his mouth in a way he hopes isn’t obvious as the stalling tactic it is. Truth be told, if he opened his mouth to speak it would be obvious in the quality of his voice that his eyes have started to water. And so he takes a long drag before throwing the spent fag off to the left and doesn’t release the smoke until he has himself more or less under control. 

“I should take him to the gallery sometime. Bet he’d be well chuffed for that.” He says finally, allowing himself to fall back onto the ground next to his husband, staring up at the sky. 

Eli sighs happily, turns a loving gaze to him. 

The roots recede a bit, and Gabe’s breathing steadies. 

  
  


Three days after their lunch, Gabe gets a text from Kat. 

_ ud make a great dad. forgot to say the other day. srsly. ud b amazing xx _

The pressure in his throat swells for a moment, and then relaxes. 

  
  
  


He watches Eli glide around the kitchen. There are three distinct times Eli seems to be fully in his element. When it’s him and his guitar on stage. When he’s face down on the mattress with the corner of a pillow wedged into his mouth. And when he’s cooking dinner. 

Eli is all sure movement and knowledge so ingrained it’s practically instinct. Seeing him so relaxed and self assured makes Gabe’s cock stir in his jeans—as it does every time. 

_ Down, boy, _ he thinks to himself. _ We’ve got somethin’ important to do right now. _

“I been thinkin’,” he starts, chipping at a flick of paint that had somehow migrated to the tabletop despite him only painting in his studio. 

“That’s dangerous.” Eli teases, stirring something in a pot. Gabe doesn’t know what he’s making—has been too distracted thinking about this moment since he woke this morning to pay attention to anything going on outside of his throat, chest, and stomach. 

“I was thinking,” he says firmer this time, to let Eli know he’s being serious, waits for a response and when there’s only respectful silence, he continues, “we’ve been together for seven years and I love you. So much. And I’m happy with you. And how things are. But I’ve been talking to Vicki recently and thinkin’ a whole lot—“

“Gabe?” Eli asks softly, and when he looks up from scraping paint off the table with his ragged thumbnail, he sees his husband—back still to him—his shoulders up near his ears, so tense. He sounds lost and Gabe realizes how this might be starting to sound and that Eli must be panicking. 

“It’s nothin’ bad, I promise!”

Eli’s shoulders drop half an inch and he spins on his heel, holding an empty serving platter in his hands, eyed slightly wide still like he is trying to be calm and is failing. “Gabriel, please, whatever it is, spit it out.” 

“I want a baby. I want to have a baby with you. I want us to have a kid. Together.” He phrases it as many ways he can think to. Not because he’s desperate to finally say it. No. Gabe doesn’t do desperate. It’s only so there’s no way Eli can misunderstand him. 

Yeah. That’s it. 

And now it’s out there and Eli knows and the thing inside him isn’t dead—he’s sure that won’t happen until there is a child in his arms and he’s being called daddy by someone other than Eli (even though that was only that one time). But for now the thing is curling up deep inside his gut, settling in to hibernate for the time being. And that’s fine. That’ll do for now. 

And then Eli drops his serving platter and is walking over to Gabe with tears in his eyes and later Gabe will fuss at Eli for being a moron as he pulls tiny shards of ceramic from his husband’s bare feet with a pair of tweezers. But for now, he’s being pulled to standing by his biceps and into the tightest hug and the world wobbles for a second before clearing with a blink and he realizes he’s tearing up, too. 

“Really? Are you sure?” Eli asks, voice full of wonder, and Gabe is immediately transported back to being on the run years ago, when Eli found out Jen was pregnant and he can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that escapes him. 

“Yeah, I’m sure, ya git! I’ve been thinkin’ about this nonstop for weeks.” He tucks his nose into Eli’s chest.

“I thought you didn’t...picture kids being a thing for you.” 

“Yeah, well. Didn’t think of marriage being a thing for me either but here we are.”

  


Later, they lay happy and fucked out (_ we made love, _ he imagined Eli correcting him in his head), he feels Eli thinking too loudly beside him. 

So he turns, presses Eli flat against the mattress and looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m sure. Just because I never pictured somethin’ being a part of my life doesn’t mean I never wanted that thing, yeah?”

Eli remains silent. He does this now. Waits for Gabe to collect more of his thoughts, gather more words to load into his mouth-canon before firing them out. Gabe hates it as much as he loves it, which is a lot. 

“I was just happy to finally be happy, yeah? I...had more than I thought I ever could, so what was the point of trying to imagine more? I was happy to date, so I never thought about marriage. I’m happy having a stepson. Y’know?”

He drops the thread of conversation, knowing Eli will finish weaving it in his mind. And he does, pulling him down in a kiss, _ I understand _is implied. 

  
  


It feels risky, but Gabe is insistent about it. Seven year olds can be unpredictable, and there’s no telling what he might think of this whole situation. 

Ben is coloring with Gabe’s oil pastels in the dining room—and oh, the paint flecks on the table suddenly making a lot of sense to him, innit?—dipping his free hand into a bowl of dry cereal, shoving a fistful into his mouth from time to time. 

Gabe and Eli watch him, surreptitiously, from the kitchen—Gabe leaning on the counter next to Eli, who pretends to wash dishes. 

They’ve spent the past five minutes elbowing each other back and forth, neither of them knowing how to start this thing off. So when Eli glances at him again, eyes wide, Gabe glares back and turns on his heel to face Ben, still casually leaning on the worktop. 

“Benj?” He asks conversationally, “Whatcha drawin’?” 

“The sun, but it’s es’ploding!” Ben replies cheerily, tongue poking into the corner of his mouth as he continues to scribble. 

Gabe rises on his toes to get a better view of Ben’s sketchbook from his vantage point—distracted for a moment by his creativity. “Damn. That’s a good color story, little man.”

“Thanks! The moon shot a laser at the sun!” 

Gabe laughs—the sound cut off by Eli poking him in the kidneys with a wet fingertip. He clears his throat and tries again. 

“Hey, Benj? How many of your friends have little siblings?” 

“Mathew does. He’s got a lil brother.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think of that?” Gabe feels himself being poked again, and he turns peer at Eli’s impatient face. 

“S’fine?” Ben shrugs, batting the pastels around with his fingers. “Do you got another green? I don’t like this one.”

“Back in a tick, lil man!” Gabe all but bolts out of the room, tries to regroup as he gathers every shade of green he can find in the pastels drawer in his studio. 

A bit calmer now, he lays his collection out in front of Ben, who picks a beautiful shade of chartreuse to add to his picture—dabbing it into the paper in a swirled pattern reminiscent of some of Gabe’s own work. In his chest, the roots grow into the shape of a hand and set about trying to wring his heart out like a wet flannel. 

“Do you think you’d like a little brother or sister?” Gabe asks plainly. He can practically feel Eli holding his breath from the other side of the room. 

“Not right now.” He reaches for the magenta and starts laying it down next to an angry black cloud. 

“Not right now?” Gabe asks, amused. “Remember you gotta dab it to blend—there ya go, Benj! Regular Redon, you are!” He knows better than to look up at Eli in that moment—knows his heart couldn’t handle the look he is throwing them, the two most important blokes in his life. So he just continues to watch Ben as he draws, ruffling his hair, so much like Eli’s. 

“Nope, not now,” he agrees before swiveling his head to stare up at him, the look of panic on his face also inherited from his father. “Is mummy gonna have a baby?!”

Gabe can’t help but laugh at that, mussing Ben’s fine curls so that they stand on end a bit. “No. But I might. At some point. Maybe.” 

Ben eyes him suspiciously for a moment before going back to drawing, stating matter of factly, “You can have a baby when I’m ten.”

Gabe laughs harder, can hear Eli failing to stifle his own chuckle, and asks, “Why ten?”

“So I can protect him.” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, shaking his head as he continues, “I’m not ready to protect a baby right now.” 

Gabe’s heart nearly bursts. 

  
  


“Are you upset?” Eli teases as they lay in bed, “Three years is an awfully long time to wait for something.”

“Nah,” Gabe yawns, grabbing a cheeky handful of Eli’s arse, giving it a good squeeze. “Just gives me more time to fuck you on every surface of the flat before we got a nipper to worry about, innit?”

“Gabe…” Eli’s tone is a warning, even if he’s blushing high on his cheekbones. Gabe skirts his fingertips along the cleft of Eli’s arse, teasing slowly. He grins as Eli’s blush deepens. 

“Soon as it’s warm, I’m havin’ you out on the balcony. Train you to keep quiet while I fuck you senseless.” He can feel his eyes turn wicked when Eli’s dick twitches with interest against his thigh. “You like that?”

“F-fuck,” Eli sighs, breath already beginning to quicken, “Yes.” 

“Good.” Gabe licks at his incisors and flips their position on the mattress unceremoniously. 

Plans have been laid for the future. But tonight, Gabe will get everything he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Title ripped from the lyrics of Mitski's song "Wife". 
> 
> I cannot bear you a son, I have tried  
But if I am not yours, what am I  
I daydream I'd give him a name of my own  
For I, even mine, even mine is unknown


End file.
